The Prettiest Appendage
by Jacalyn Hyde
Summary: An unrequited Bellamort set early in the first war and featuring a relatively innocent young Bellatrix, obsessive and controlling Rodolphus, and "strangely enigmatic" Voldemort. Giftfic for xoxLewrahxox. REMAINING UNFINISHED. Sorry.
1. All I Really Want

A/N: This is a giftfic for the lovely Sarah- xoxLewrahxox –who asked for "an unrequited Bellatrix/Voldemort" story including "a dramatic line of 'I love you' from Bellatrix." It was supposed to be about 1,000 words but, as you can see, it exceeded my outlined expectations… While the story itself is Sarah's, the characters and the songs belong to J.K. Rowling and Alanis Morissette respectively. I own nothing.

Warnings: This might make Rodolphus come across as- well, not a _horrible_ person but not Bella's true love either. These songs are not Alanis' most popular, but they are my favorites and they do suit Bella.

I have written Bellamort before but my previous attempts make Bella come across as either a foolish young girl with a crush on her teacher (_Victims of Love_) or desperate and sexually motivated (_Bella, Love_ and _Phantasies_). This is a slightly different spin than either of those and there's a lot about Rodolphus in the first chapter, but, trust me, there will be Bellamort. Everybody please review. Sarah, I hope you like it. Love. –Lia.

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"She's obviously as bonkers as they come… And she's in love with Voldemort, really." –Helena Bonham Carter on Bellatrix. (July 2007. _Entertainment_ _Weekly_).

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"All I really want is some comfort; a way to get my hands untied. And all I really want is some justice..." –Alanis Morissette, "All I Really Want". (Album: Jagged Little Pill.)

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"What's the harm in me just meeting Him?" I asked for what had to be the hundredth time. It was an argument that had lasted as long as our marriage. I certainly had no intention of relenting.

There were things I liked about Rodolphus Lestrange but, through our entire courtship, my eyes had focused on his tattoo more than anything else. I doubt he ever noticed that though, he himself had focused mainly on my physical features as well the task of keeping the hands and eyes of other men off me.

I tolerated his possessiveness because, just like him, I had some ulterior motives for this relationship. Of course, I knew about the Dark Lord, His growing number of followers, His Cause, and His power. I wasn't supposed to know about any of that. By my parents' expectations, and, apparently, Rodolphus' as well, I wasn't supposed to do anything other than hang on his arm, always be presentable, and, eventually, bear his children.

I was a girl- _woman_ –and girls allowed for pureblood marriages of convenience. Aside from that, we might as well not exist. It didn't matter that I had ten OWLS and impressive scores on my NEWTs. It would have been positively scandalous for my future to hold anything other than marriage and children. Merely for the sake of keeping myself sane by seizing control of _something_, I pushed myself toward fruitless academic perfection.

I envied Rodolphus with every fiber of my being. As a relatively intelligent pureblood _male_, he could be anything he wanted. In spite of that jealousy- which I easily masked- I still stayed as close as possible to him, even before I was told to do so. We were childhood friends and he was actually pleasant company until puberty brought on the ridiculous "_I'm a _man_, I must possess and protect you_" attitude that he never let go of.

What we had was barely a step above an arranged relationship. We had dated- _courted_, to use the appropriate yet outdated term –during our time at Hogwarts. I slept with him- gave him my virginity- during his seventh year, my sixth. That was a mistake. It was at that moment he decided I was his and no one else's.

Had I been able to allow myself to forget the intertwined skull and snake design I'd seen on his left wrist that night, I might have told him otherwise. But I _couldn't_. I'd stared at it from the moment he pulled his shirt off. I knew Rodolphus wasn't clever enough to invent that sort of design on his own, so that was what I focused on: attempting to guess it's true origin and meaning in order to distract myself from the pain and uncertainty I felt as he deflowered me.

Whenever he repositioned that arm so I couldn't see the mark, I immediately pulled it back into my sight. He interpreted that desperate movement as participation in the act and an indication that I was enjoying myself and that he didn't need to be so gentle with me. I didn't bother protesting that, it would only complicate things, instead I stared at the design until I had it memorized then lay back and squeezed my eyes shut, mentally dissecting every detail and all the possible symbolism I could think of.

For the remainder of the school year after that night, Rodolphus scarcely let me out of his sight. Several times, I tugged on his sleeve, hoping for another glimpse at his tattoo. I was as curious about it as I had been about sex and I was as obsessed with analyzing it as he was with having me for himself. He always smacked my hand away when I tried to pull his sleeve up though, murmuring something about the inappropriateness of undressing each other in public. I never failed to roll my eyes in response.

I didn't really miss him after he graduated and I went back for my seventh year- with his repeated assurance that we were soul mates who should be married as soon as I left school, and, therefore, I shouldn't be sleeping with or even looking at any other boys. I heeded that request, not because I was the typical fearful and obedient pureblood woman, but because I had little time for anything remotely romantic.

The NEWTs were exactly what their abbreviation supposedly stood for: Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. I wanted- _needed_ –to do as well on them as possible if only for the sake of my own self-esteem. Rodolphus sent me a subscription to the _Daily Prophet_, writing that I might find the fashion and style sections amusing. He was wrong, but I had other reasons for reading almost every word of the paper in my spare time.

One day, there was a picture on the front page. The exact image of the mark I remembered from Rodolphus' arm, this time it was a conjured image floating above a muggle house. From the caption beneath it, the article it accompanied, and a little more research through rumors and follow-up articles, I learned everything I needed.

I confronted Rodolphus about it when he visited me on a Hogsmead weekend that spring, demanding to know why he had been keeping such a wonderful secret from me. We sat down in the Hog's Head and he told me that his servitude in the Death Eaters worked simply to benefit our future children and it wasn't something I should concern myself with. I ignored that and asked where the term "Death Eaters" came from, what their leader was like, and how muggle-killing missions were organized and executed.

I excitedly voiced every question I could think to ask and commented on the strength, loyalty, and bravery he must have possessed in order to join such a group. Instead of replying or answering any of my questions, he grabbed my hand, keeping his facial expression calm so anyone watching us would interpret it as an affectionate gesture, but actually forcing my index finger backward to the point that I cried out in pain.

He repeated that it was none of my concern and kept pushing my finger for emphasis. I managed to keep myself composed- my voice and facial expression anyway- but then I heard a crack. My eyes filled with tears at the same time I let out a scream, capturing the attention of most of the other tavern-goers.

The dark glare on Rodolphus' face vanished immediately to be replaced by a look of loving concern. He said he didn't mean to actually break my finger; he was just trying to teach me a lesson. He offered to heal it for me.

I screamed, "Fuck you!" because I was beyond the point of caring about our reputations. It was the first time I'd said anything remotely unladylike aloud, let alone in his presence. For a moment I focused on that instead of the broken finger I was cradling in my other hand, and it felt incredibly satisfying. I ran away, half blinded by my pain and emotions, only to realize that I hadn't learned any bone repairing spells yet.

I somehow made it to the Hogwarts hospital wing. The hotel room Rodolphus had rented us for the occasion was never used and the incident was never mentioned again.

Our wedding was nothing special. It was grand, even by the rich pureblood definition, but it had no emotional meaning. I had never told Rodolphus I loved him and I had no intention of ever doing so. I supposed that I could have talked my way out of the marriage and ended up with another pureblood who would treat me about the same. I was too cynical to ponder the concept of any man accepting me as an equal.

I could have settled for the gentler sort instead, but they tended to be self-absorbed in order to compensate for their lack of domestic abuse. Lucius Malfoy was the best example of that- only fourteen and already strutting around with platinum hair longer than mine and sending glares of disgust at his few inferior peers. My sister Narcissa was set to marry him after her graduation and she had very few complaints against him. Then again, she had very few independent thoughts anyway.

I mentally scoffed at the thought and returned my focus to the present events. I followed the traditions and said and did as I was expected to, but I had never felt more miserable or pathetic in my entire life.

Our wedding night was very much like the first time I'd given myself to him: essentially meaningless yet somehow still terrifying. This time it wasn't the sex I was scared of: it was the entire concept of marriage and my delayed reaction to what it actually meant, the new expectations and limitations it presented me with.

Now, it was a few weeks later. I brought up the "Death Eater issue" again and he slapped me for it. I warned him that I'd been practicing curses on mice and insects I'd found around the house. He asked if I had mastered any _Unforgivable_ Curses and I shook my head. I might have at least attempted them if I knew their incantations, but I obviously wasn't going to find them in old Hogwarts textbooks and our library's Dark Arts books only referenced the Unforgivables in theory. I had found no way to teach them to myself.

The look in my husband's eyes at that point confirmed that _he_ knew them. I instantly forgot the slap from a few seconds ago and asked if he would teach me. He laughed at me.

"What about the Dark Lord, then?" I couldn't resist asking.

"What about Him?"

I shook my head again, this time finding it impossible to voice the wonder I felt for this mysterious yet immensely powerful Dark wizard.

"What's the harm in me just _meeting_ Him?" I demanded finally.

He stared at me like he thought I was incredibly stupid. "You're just a girl, Trixie," he lectured, using the nickname I hated. "He has no use for you, bringing you to Him would merely waste His time. I doubt you'd want to delay the man who's in charge of the war for cleansing our world."

"I'm not just a girl, Rodolphus, you sexist, age-ist-"

"_Age_-_ist_ isn't a word, Sweetheart."

I drew my wand and pressed the tip of it against his throat before he even had a chance to reach for his own. "I know the entrails-expelling curse," I hissed with boldness I hadn't used in such a long time. Almost as soon as I said that, I realized what would likely happen to me as soon as I lowered my wand, so I opted to negotiate more than threaten. "I'm not asking you to _present_ me to Him or anything. You can just take me there, we'll say I grabbed on to your arm when you disapparated…"

"He'll know it's a lie."

"Really?" I exclaimed, smiling in awe of the thought.

He glared at me and gave no verbal confirmation. I tried a different approach. "All I'm asking is that you arrange a meeting, if you-"

"If I take you to Him," Rodolphus interrupted. "He's most likely going to laugh at both of us and probably curse you for not respecting your place."

"I don't care!"

"If I bring you to Him and He doesn't want you, which, He obviously won't..." He mused aloud, obviously planning some way to twist my determination to his advantage. "No matter what happens afterward, your obsession _will_ end and you will stop asking so many stupid questions, _understand_?"

I nodded and slowly lowered my wand, hating relinquishing that control but knowing I'd never see the Dark Lord otherwise.


	2. Joining You

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews. In case you were wondering: the title is also from an Alanis Morissete song. The line "I'll be the prettiest appendage to ever lose herself" is from Spineless on the album So Called Chaos. My summary description of Voldemort ("strangely enigmatic") is from Princes Familiar from The Collection album. Credit where credit is due. "Kroo-she-oh" is how _I_ pronounce Crucio, but I might be wrong... Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. Love. –Lia.

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"If we were our bodies, if we were our futures, if we were our defenses, I'd be joining you. If we were our culture, if we were our leaders, if we were our denials, I'd be joining you." –Alanis Morissette, "Joining You." (Album: Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie.)

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"He wants to see you alone."

"Really?" My eyes must have been shining; I must have seemed tremendously excited, because Rodolphus glared at me.

"Yes, _really_. Go in there and don't embarrass us, please."

I nodded enthusiastically then kissed him impulsively and whispered, "Thank you."

"I'll be waiting for you here, most likely to say I told you so."

There wasn't anything else I could say that wouldn't result in a slap or a patronizing comment from him, so I just nodded again and turned to enter the doorway he'd just vacated.

Several emotions overwhelmed me, including fear and desperation, but curiosity overpowered all of them. I just took one breath and one step at a time, only letting out a tiny gasp when the door slammed shut behind me.

At first, I thought Rodolphus might have been playing a cruel joke on me. After all, I didn't recognize the house we were in and the room I'd just been locked into seemed to contain no other person. But I just had to trust him. This meant the world to me.

I braced myself for disappointment and sighed, blinking back tears and about to turn back to the door and leave. But I froze suddenly, shivering when I heard footsteps behind me. I spun and let out a ridiculous little squeal like the excitable little schoolgirl I still was. This was… _this was the Dark Lord. _

I tried to say something- anything remotely appropriate –but my heartbeat exhilarated and my words failed me.

He smiled, an expression that would haunt my daydreams forevermore, and spoke for me. "I would introduce myself, but I'm certain you already know who I am." That _voice_: it would have made the Imperious Curse redundant. It was dark, cold, and captivating. The mere sound of it, coupled with the intensity I felt just being in His presence, made me want nothing more than to please Him.

I nodded, but that nonverbal reply seemed much too simple for Him. Miraculously finding my own voice, I replied, "I only know what I've read, my lord."

He raised an eyebrow at my use of the formality. But what else was I supposed to call Him? It was no-longer enough to think of Him as my husband's leader. Even if He didn't want me serving Him, I knew I would always think of Him as my own master.

He dismissed the matter with a question, "Do you believe that what the _Prophet_ reports is true?"

"I… my lord, I do hope so." It was the only information I had. "Not the rumors, I mean, but, the facts, the war… it's really happening, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is."

"I want to fight in it," I confessed desperately before I could restrain myself. "I want to help you. I've never wanted anything as much as-"

"Silence," He said calmly, barely audible over my rambling yet obeyed instantly. I hastily whispered an apology. "I can see that you have passion for the Cause and, yes, I will consider allowing you to join my fight for it." I instinctively bit down on my lower lip to keep myself from screaming in delight; I would have only embarrassed myself and perhaps even caused Him to change His mind about me. I nodded excitedly and He continued, "But you haven't even introduced yourself yet."

"But didn't Rodolphus tell you-"

"He did. But, based on his disapproval of this meeting, I thought it would be best to treat you as if you'd come to me on your own."

"Thank you." That meant that whatever Rodolphus had said attempting to bias Him against me would be disregarded. I let myself relax just a little and decided to begin with my name. "I'm Bellatrix Black, my Lord."

He looked at me for a moment as if He was going to offer a correction, but gave none. He nodded for me to continue right when I realized my mistake. "Um, _Lestrange_, I mean."

"Do you often forget your own name, Bellatrix?" I had to take a few seconds closely examining His features in order to realize He was only teasing. "That's not promising."

"No. You see, I've only been married for three weeks now. Sometimes, I genuinely do forget, and, other times, I just wish I could."

I thought He would have commented on that statement. I wished He would have offered some advice or sympathy or asked how I could be so unhappy after only three weeks of marriage, but He said nothing. The pause in our conversation lasted only a matter of seconds before He spoke again. "Well, Bellatrix, it's also clear that you are-"

"_Yes_, my lord," I interrupted. It was an incredibly foolish thing to do, but, if I'd let Him finish that sentence, anything I said afterward would be meaningless. I needed to make Him understand. "I am, quite obviously female. But please listen to me! I'm not like other girls. I beat up my cousins, I practice curses, I got ten OWLS and-"

"Bellatrix," He interrupted in the same calm tone from His last line, but with a clear warning in the word. "It seems we've found yet another issue you are passionate about. But I was actually going to say 'pureblood', not 'female.'"

"Oh," I whispered, suddenly hating myself. "Please forgive me. I only meant-"

He waved a hand to communicate that we were finished discussing that issue. "How old are you, Bellatrix?"

"Eighteen, my lord."

"Eighteen," He repeated. It obviously was not what He would have guessed but I caught no clue as to whether He had thought me to older or younger than that. "May I have a look inside your mind? There are a few things I would like to know that I couldn't just take your word for."

I hesitated only for a second. While I'd spent the past two weeks teaching myself a variety of curses, Rodolphus had passed that time attempting to learn Legilimency, often trying to penetrate my mind while I was sleeping. The only thing he'd actually accomplished was giving me excruciating headaches that lasted for hours and couldn't be cured with normal healing potions.

But the Dark Lord was different. Everything I'd read reported that He had mastered the art and I trusted Him. I'd known Him for less than ten minutes, and I already felt that way. It wasn't the same way I trusted anyone else either.

On my sixteenth birthday, Rodolphus told me he loved me for the first time and I believed him, mostly because he said it was okay that I didn't think I was emotionally ready to say it back. A few weeks later, he said I still didn't have to say it, but I could _prove_ that I loved him if I slept with him. I still wasn't certain of my own feelings toward him. After all, if I wasn't even prepared to say 'I love you' to him, then was I really ready for sex? But I went along with it because I was curious and because I thought I needed to _make_ him keep loving me.

At this point, I knew better than that. I took an abnormally long time to even begin to trust anyone, especially someone who could take advantage of me. But, oddly enough, I felt none of that wariness with my lord.

Knowing exactly how vulnerable it would leave me, I nodded my consent.

"Just relax and look into my eyes," He instructed. I obeyed, letting His words soothe me the way a lullaby would.

Sights and sounds flooded my mind suddenly. There were random clips of memory, flashes of emotions, and multiple images. The order made no sense to me but they were all things I remembered seeing or experiencing.

His actual presence in my mind could almost be compared to a physical sensation: grazing over several thoughts in no particular order, the way it felt to have hands brushing over my body. In regard to my comfort and privacy, He wasn't overly harsh or hasty, but He wasn't going out of His way to be gentle either. It didn't bother me. Not until He caused some of my more personal and painful memories to surface.

My fear, helplessness, the abuse I'd endured…

"Stop," I whispered, begging before I could stop myself from doing so. "Please stop."

Slowly, He withdrew, conjuring one last memory: a happy one- eleven year old me mastering my first spell- before breaking our mental connection. He must have done that for my comfort more so than for His own information.

I caught my breath and tried to explain myself. "It's not that I didn't want you to see that…"

"You're ashamed of it. And you certainly didn't like seeing it second hand either."

I grimaced. "I can't really do anything about it."

"No, I suppose you can't." He replied finally. I couldn't tell if He was being sarcastic with that line or if He genuinely meant it.

I nodded. "I'm sorry." I hoped He wouldn't see that as a sign of weakness, but, _of course,_ He would. I was already ruining my one chance…

Silence settled between us. I bit my lip and lowered my eyes to stare at the floor, waiting miserably for Him to tell me exactly what Rodolphus had said He would: that I was a pathetic little girl just wasting His time.

After what felt like ten minutes of agonizing uncertainty, I decided I was going to count backwards from one hundred and, if He still didn't say anything to me by the time I finished, I would just mumble some kind of apology and dismiss myself. It broke my heart to do so but I saw few other options.

When I reached eighty-three, I looked up at Him again, just for a second with a desperate yet unspoken question in my eyes. His expression remained indecipherable. I bit my lip even harder and looked down again.

By sixty-seven, it occurred to me that He might have been testing my patience: if I was willing to wait for Him. But, what was _He_ doing in that time? What was He thinking about while I was going insane with anticipation?

Reaching twenty-one, I changed my mind. I didn't really want to leave; I just wanted to stop this. I took a deep breath and raised my gaze yet again. Shakily meeting His gaze, I exhaled, "My lord?"

A smile crossed His features just for a moment. It wasn't even a _real_ smile: it was a mockery of a reassuring expression. "Shall I tell you what I like about you, Bellatrix?"

Something good? Something He _liked_ about me? My mouth hung open slightly for a few seconds of disbelief until I finally remembered how to speak. "Yes, please."

"You are disciplined and determined. You're willing to learn and you're willing to obey. I could use that. But, what I _dislike_…" He stretched out the last word, hissing the "s" sound. My heart skipped a beat. I shuddered and nodded. "You're trying so hard to convince me that you are not helpless, and yet, you so firmly believe that you-"

"I'm _not_!"

"That's another thing, Bellatrix. This is the second time in the few minutes I've known you that you interrupted me. An act like that requires a tremendous amount of temerity."

After making sure that His sentence was indeed complete; I spoke again, "I'm sorry."

"_No_. You see, you cancel out that boldness with your repeated apologies. You change your mind constantly, and, therefore, you can never really be trusted, now can you?"

I knew the question was posed as both sarcastic and rhetorical, but I still felt compelled to answer it. "You _can_ trust-"

He waved with another dismissive gesture before I finished. "Before you asked me to withdraw from your mind, Bellatrix…" He paused, preparing another question, another test. My heart gave a tiny spasm when He said my name, there was no more emphasis on it than usual, but I realized how often He was using it and tried to decide if I liked that or not.

"I saw that you have been exposed to a number of tortures: physical blows and hexes alike," He continued. "I was wondering if you have ever felt the Cruciatus Curse."

My eyes widened at the words. "No, my lord, I haven't."

"You seem excited," He commented with a slight smirk. "Would you _like_ to?"

The descriptions I'd read about the curse flashed through my mind: "excruciating," "unbearable," and "agonizing" pain. That didn't exactly sound appealing, but, still, I wanted to see for myself. After all, the people who had written those books had most likely never felt it; they merely collected stories and testimonies.

I reasoned that I would never be able to master casting the curse if I didn't understand what it could truly do. I met His eyes finally and whispered, "Please."

He raised His wand right when I remembered something, "Wait!" He was about to put me under the torture curse after all, there were very few possibilities of worse punishments for interrupting Him a third time.

He seemed annoyed but not murderous yet. "Yes, Bellatrix? What is it?"

"What's the incantation for that curse?"

He gave another half-amused smirk, "Crucio." He summoned no magic as He said that, and, without wand usage, it was just a word. But what a marvelous word it was! It was going to change my life.

"Kroo-she-oh," I enunciated in a whisper.

"Yes," He confirmed a moment before repeating the word again, as a shout this time, conjuring up the most painful sensations imaginable and sending them coursing through me without a moment of warning.

_The books were right_, was my sole coherent thought before I crumpled to the ground and a series of blood-curdling screams escaped me.


	3. Precious Illusions

A/N: This chapter is much longer than the previous two. Most of my stories have been that way recently, with fewer updates but longer chapters. I think you prefer it the other way around, so I'll try to write that way from now on, bear with me in the mean time. Xx starlight-moon xX beta read this chapter for me. I would be hopelessly lost without her guidance because Bella sounded unrealistically masochistic in the first draft…. Review, please. I love you dearly. –Lia.

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"You'll complete me, right? Then my life can finally begin. I'll be worthy, right? Only when you realize the gem I am... Once I know who I'm not then I'll know who I am. But I know I won't keep on playing the victim." –Alanis Morissette, "Precious Illusions". (Album: Under Rugs Swept.)

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The pain was indeed excruciating, unbearable, and… I couldn't even remember what the other adjective had been. I could hardly think at all. It was too hot… no, too _cold_. I'd somehow lost the ability to tell the difference between the two, but I immediately changed my mind: it was definitely too _hot_, because, although I saw no flames, my skin seemed to be on fire.

My bones were breaking too, I was positive of this. The splitting agony was just like the sensation I remembered from when Rodolphus broke my finger, but so much more intense and I could feel it everywhere this time. Muscles tearing, toes curling, head splitting…

From what I'd read, I knew perfectly well that struggling was pointless. Screaming did no good either, but scream I did. I couldn't stop and it didn't even occur to me to try.

"_Bellatrix_…"

The voice was impossibly far away but I found it compelling. Before I even registered that it was _His_ voice, I was already turning my head to the direction it had come from. Movement amplified the pain, but I did my best to ignore it. He had only said my name, but I interpreted it as a command -_listen and look at me_- and obeyed without a second thought.

"I'm sure you know, Bellatrix, that this is only to satisfy your curiosity. You are not being punished... I will stop this curse as soon as you ask me to."

I nodded, but gave no such request. Hearing His assurance had calmed me somewhat. I shifted my focus from the pain I was feeling to the purpose of that sensation. The reason I had accepted His offer to put this curse on me in the first place: I wanted to see what it could really do when used properly. What _I_ could use it for: what I could do to people if I wanted to hurt them… I wanted just a few more seconds of feeling it; enough to fully understand…

I curled up in my position on the floor and relaxed as much as possible considering my circumstance. Resolving to focus on the mental instead of the physical aspect of the curse, I was able to realize and appreciate the power behind it and not just the agony it was causing me. It was incredible, positively killing me, and I managed to savor it.

I changed my mind and decided to keep my screaming to a minimum. Forgetting everything else, I felt nothing but the pain and my own amazement. I twitched and panted and even managed a smile.

Then, it stopped so suddenly I couldn't keep myself from crying out: a little screech halfway between objection and confusion. But then I remembered what was happening and who I was with. Doing my best to amend the situation without making it worse, I sat up slowly and mouthed, "Please forgive me."

The way He looked at me then- it was as if I'd presented a riddle that was intriguing only for a minute, interesting enough to listen to but not enough to waste time attempting to solve. I frowned somewhat meekly.

"I think that's enough for now."

I nodded, still in shock. I ran my left hand along my right arm then my right hand along my left arm and quickly repeated that process, patting down both my legs. I was checking for any kind of damage, but I found none: no burnt skin, no broken bones, nothing, aside from some lingering traces of the curse which were growing to feel more like numbness than actual pain.

"I'm okay," I reported in almost-disbelief.

"Are you?" _Was that another sarcastic question?_

I answered anyway, "Yes, I think so."

"Good," He commented with no particular emotion. I took that as my cue to stand up again. "I had no reason to punish you, Bellatrix. That's what the curse is generally used for, punishment if you ever fail or disappoint-"

"Or for torturing people to give us information," I supplied.

He frowned, both eyebrows raised slightly. It was an expression of either annoyance at my interruption or slight curiosity as to how I knew such things.

"I've been reading," I explained with sudden shyness.

"Of course you have." It was another dismissive comment, bringing us back to the original point. "You know, I had no particular inclination to indulge you either."

I shook my head slowly to silently communicate my confusion.

"If you found the Cruciatus Curse unbearable, then there was no reason for you to endure it. And, if you were enjoying it, as your smile might have indicated…"

My mouth hung open slightly, I shook my head with more emphasis this time and struggled to properly formulate an explanation. "I was-"

"As interesting as your reaction was, Bellatrix, you still have yet to earn any rewards _or_ punishments."

I gave another weak attempt at objecting but only managed to form the word "No" before He continued again.

"Don't you dare chide me for interrupting _you_." It was just another sarcastic comment, but I couldn't stop myself blushing meekly or whispering, "No, my lord, not at all."

I wanted to explain that I hadn't been enjoying the pain, simply marveling at what the torture curse could do to a person. Somehow, the words just wouldn't come to me.

He sensed my struggle and hopefully interpreted it correctly. "I think I've seen enough," He said finally.

I shivered involuntarily and nodded, wordlessly begging for elaboration.

"You believe in the Cause, I can see that. Perhaps you're more eager to attack blood traitors than anyone else. But one doesn't need to look into your mind to know that, merely at your family tree."

I smiled. Being a Black, as I'd know from infancy, was something to be proud of. We were strong, well-connected, and pure- untainted for centuries, well, almost entirely untainted.

The Dark Lord was right, of course, the squibs and traitors we'd disowned were not just black spots on a tapestry, but blemishes and disadvantages affecting my very existence.

I was happier still- smiling even more warmly –realizing that He had referenced me as a Black. The Lestranges, admittedly, were just as ancient, wealthy, and influential, but the Black family was my heritage, the only thing I'd known for my entire life minus the past three weeks. It was my true identity and birthright. In spite of my recent name-change, I had no intention of ever giving that up.

Still smiling, I recited, "_Toujours Pur_," the family motto, thinking He'd appreciate or at least understand it.

"Always Pure," He translated. "Yes. You are the first Black to join me."

"I won't be the last," I spoke without considering the statement mentally first. My mind flew instantly to my little cousins, Regulus and Sirius. It was as much a promise to myself as it was to Him and to them. When they were old enough, the boys would fight: we all would, for our most worthy cause until our world was…

"_Bellatrix_!"

The voice cut through my thoughts and dreams. I hadn't even realized that He was still speaking while my thoughts were elsewhere. I snapped to attention and apologized yet again before adding, "You'll have to wait a few years though" to my earlier promise.

After all, Sirius, the elder, was only eleven. Recruiting him now was a ridiculous impulse. I couldn't help it though, I wanted to bring more followers, more Blacks, more resources. But I shouldn't have been so eager, the Dark Lord still had yet to accept the gift I was currently presenting: myself.

I nodded with renewed nervousness and, after a pause just long enough to send me a warning look; the Dark Lord continued His observation as if He hadn't just reprimanded me for not paying attention.

"You are, however, not the first Lestrange." There was another pause, this time it was for me to understand that I was being judged through both sides of my family. I wondered if He'd reference my mother's side as well: the Rosiers. My parents' had been an arranged marriage, but a wise and useful connection.

My cousin on that side, Evan, was a year or so older than me. Assuming the information in his most recent letter had been the truth, he had recently been initiated as one of the Dark Lord's followers. I had to _assume_ it was true, because Evan did have a tendency to lie for attention and admiration. I hadn't heard from him for a few months though, so he must have been up to _something_.

The other Lestranges the Dark Lord was referencing were, of course, my husband and his older brother Rabastan, who, despite how well the brothers got along, was almost his polar opposite: carefree instead of paranoid and indulgent toward his wife instead of abusive. I often envied them.

"Bellatrix…" the Dark Lord was speaking slightly louder now, demanding my attention because He must have known that my thoughts were slipping from our present conversation toward the things I hadn't allowed Him to see in my mind. "What your husband said, when He brought you here…"

That got my full attention. I had never intended to drift anyway, but His words had me so emotional for some reason. I nodded, this was another thing I'd wondered but not dared to ask: what exactly had Rodolphus said or done that prompted the Dark Lord to opt to see me alone?

"Generally, when people are brought before me, it's by supportive friends who believe I can use their potential to benefit both parties. Rodolphus, however, said nothing good about you. Instead, he requested that I simply humor you, but not recruit you. I was to put you in your place but not hurt you too terribly."

"I don't-"

He ignored my half-formed interjection. "You see, Bellatrix, when my followers are in my favor, I will occasionally reward them to encourage-"

"And Rodolphus asked you to deal with me for him? Make me stop talking about learning curses or fighting for the Cause? Break my spirit essentially? Shatter my dreams so I just shut up and do whatever he says? Stop thinking for myself or wanting…"

I trailed off, catching myself, hopefully before I sounded _too_ stupid. Silence settled between us and the Dark Lord was looking at me like… well, exactly the way I'd feared He would: like He found me to be some combination of obnoxious and immature.

Nearly a full minute passed with His unchanging expression and me shivering slightly every time I attempted to hold eye contact with Him.

"I'm _sorry_ I interrupted you again," I said finally. "I was… excited. _Please_ just tell me what-"

"So _bold_, Bella."

I should have been more concerned with His warning tone than with His shortening of my name, but I was hardly thinking rationally at the moment.

_Bella_? My eyes widened and I was about to comment right when He added "-_trix_" with a slight click of His tongue, like it was an after thought to the statement itself and not the final syllable of the name I might have preferred shortened anyway.

"Especially considering that you already know the answer," He finished, noticing and perhaps even savoring my shock. "He said you were delusional, that you were studying the Dark Arts and obsessed with me for some unclear and extremely inappropriate reason."

I frowned but nodded. I shouldn't have expected anything more OR less from Rodolphus. Considering his attitude and our situation, I was fortunate to even see the Dark Lord, let alone meet Him or have Him considering…

"Based on his description, Bellatrix, I was expecting you to be some kind of crazed, obsessive schoolgirl."

I smiled nervously.

"And you did not disappoint, but, all the same, there is something about you."

"I told you I wasn't like other girls." Trying to be cute was so stupid. I immediately resolved to bash my head against a wall as soon as I was dismissed. But it was too late to retract or amend that comment or the stupid, girlish tone I voiced it with.

"I never said you were." His tone was not defensive, simply clarifying. I felt another compulsion to apologize but this time managed to restrain myself from annoying Him further. "You do understand, Bella-"

"_Ha_!" I exclaimed, unintentionally speaking aloud. Unfortunately, yet another impulsive outburst from me meant that I now had to give yet another explanation. Was He getting sick of them? I certainly was. This time I justified it with a somewhat deliberate accusatory note: "You called me Bella."

He smirked- it was obviously preferable to the frown I'd seen earlier and surprisingly also more encouraging than His un-assuring smile. This expression was just somehow more genuine, more _Him_.

"I might have called you Bella_trix_, had you allowed me to finish the sentence, or even the word. But now, I suppose, you'll never know for sure exactly what I called you. Let's hope you won't lose too much sleep over the matter."

"I'm sorry… f-for speaking out of turn, my lord." The clarification and the title were added hastily after a brief hesitation on my part.

"Don't apologize. You'll only do it aga-"

"No! I won't, I promi..." Too late, I shut myself up.

"You see?" He asked. His tone could have suggested any possible emotion, but I chose to interpret it as sarcasm and say nothing. I merely nodded in response. "Your constant interruptions get us no where. But you are obviously excited, and, somehow, I'm curious now: how would you react if I did call you Bella?"

"I... don't know… my lord."

"Would you feel singled out? Objectified? Or would you take it as a pet name? Would you think you were special?"

I shrugged and struggled to formulate a verbal answer.

"Bella?" He murmured with slight amusement, breaking the silence and making my shortened name sound like a question.

A shiver passed through me: an unfamiliar yet pleasant sensation.

"I like it," I responded somewhat timidly.

"You like _what_?" He inquired. He obviously knew what I meant, but the phrasing of His last question and my senseless answer did not entirely match up.

"When you call me Bella. My sisters called me that when we were kids. But Rodolphus started calling me Trixie when we were courting," I explained, hissing the last word disdainfully. "I hate it and Bella is so much more… well, I think it suits me. And with you, it doesn't sound like some stupid childish nickname, it just feels…"

"So you do think you're special?"

"No…" I answered; smiling innocently and phrasing the affirmation so uncertainly it ended up sounding like a question. "I just like the name."

Contradicting my verbal reply, I couldn't help mentally processing the words '_special_' and '_Bella_.' We'd only just met, so I couldn't possibly be significant to Him just yet. But I would like to be, someday.

"Are there any other outbursts you would like to get out of the way before we continue, Bella?"

I bit my lip for a moment, waiting for Him to add the last syllable of my name. He didn't. If it's possible for a heart to smile, mine was definitely doing that.

Tempted as I was to verbally admit that I would indeed like to be special and ask how I could achieve such a thing, I knew it wouldn't help the situation. Instead, I bit my lip even harder and shook my head.

"Very well. As I was saying earlier, before you saw fit to interrupt, _Bella_…" He hissed the name this time. I shivered- not so pleasantly –hearing it. I wondered if I had truly earned the pet name or if He was just humoring, testing, or even mocking me.

"… You have potential," The Dark Lord finished.

I quickly set aside the uncertainty of 'Bella' and exclaimed, "Really?"

"You are excitable and obsessive," He continued as if I hadn't spoken. "You're young, obviously, and you are also shockingly naïve. But, yes, you do have potential. I would like to see you again at some-"

"'_Again_?'" There I was, senselessly interrupting again. "You're not dismissing me now, are you?"

"Yes. You've already given me a great deal more information than I usually get from first meetings."

"How is that possible? You saw almost nothing in my mind."

"Actions speak louder than words, Bella. And sometimes words are much more telling than thoughts or memories. All the same, it is discouraging how little of your mind you wished to share with me."

"I do trust you. But I've been through a lot, my lord, and I didn't want you to judge me too harshly for…"

"Another time, Bella."

"Do you have to go somewhere? I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?"

"You are not keeping me from anything. I'm getting the impression that you would be more than content to stay here for the rest of the day. But, like I already told you, I've seen enough."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. I just nodded and masked my disappointment and uncertainty the best I could.


End file.
